


Now I'm Not So Sure (The Line Begins to Blur)

by DarlingNikki



Series: With Teeth [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Dirty Talk, Hallucinations, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Masturbation, Someone Help Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingNikki/pseuds/DarlingNikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will in the asylum again.  A late night conversation is had with Hannibal.  Will talks about his feelings, Hannibal may just be another fragment of Will's mind, floating along like so much wreckage, but it doesn't really matter to Will.  He's very lonely after all, and trapped in his worst nightmare come to life.</p><p>You probably don't need to read the first part of this series to understand this, but they are in the same universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I'm Not So Sure (The Line Begins to Blur)

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to a whole bunch of different music while I wrote this. With Teeth by Nine Inch Nails, Angel by Depeche Mode, uh, some other stuff I don't remember? This was written over two nights, and is unbeta'd as usual. Hope it doesn't suck? This is me procrastinating on my Hannibang entry and my Hannibal exchange fic that is only half done. Better than the other night's very drunken kink meme fills though, I'm so not claiming those currently.

Lie in the darkness. I'm slowly trying to sleep with nothing left to lose. I can't stop glancing over though to look at Hannibal standing just outside of the bars of my small cell observing me. Tonight he is silent. His eyes, his eyes gleam red, the color of dried blood, and I can't sleep with him there. I can't sleep under such carefully measured scrutiny. I can't sleep.

 

Trying to hold onto my train of though is trying to save a sinking ship with my bare hands, weak and shaking. Being in this place, being caged, has changed me. I'm not even entirely sure I remember how anymore. I can barely remember the feel of home, of nighttime in Wolf Trap with my dogs cuddling with me, comforting me.

 

I roll over to face Hannibal.

 

Finally, he speaks, “Do you still feel as if you have a scream perched in your throat, waiting to be released?”

 

“No.” And I don't. I am different than the Will that woke up to his worst nightmare. Knowing that I am not guilty of those crimes freed me. I am not the same man. I am reborn here. I see more than I did before, especially since I've gotten the medical treatment I needed. Without the fever, without the headaches, my thoughts seem clearer, more coherent. I am able to look inside every person in this hell. My vision is clearer.

 

I'm still repeating the same routine.

 

Wake up, eat my breakfast, ignore Chilton, lunch, sit alone in the group room, dinner, then sit in my cell and listen to Hannibal.

 

“How do you feel now?”

 

“Infuriated.” I don't remember when it started, but I am so enraged by all those people who let me down. Jack who didn't see. Alana who just cried instead of being useful. Hannibal for being a monster, for putting me here, for making me think I could have something precious and pure, only to tear it away so viciously, so completely. “I am so sick of you people, and your questions.” Meeting his eyes, “I am so sick of all the people that let me fall so far down that I landed in here.” I don't see a thing in his eyes, no emotions, nothing. “I'm so sick of everything nowadays.”

 

He looks at me, focuses on the bags under my eyes, the greasy mess of my hair, “You're not taking care of yourself, Will, are you feeling,” he draws the word out before continuing, “depressed?”

 

“No,” I snarl impotently at him, “I am frustrated.” The next words are bullets falling from my lips. “I am livid. I am fucking done with your questions.” Day in, day out, I'm not sure why he keeps coming back. Granted sometimes I only know it's him by his voice because instead of seeing him, I see a monstrous stag, upright and made of pitch. Those visits only happen sometime though. Usually it's just Hannibal, as he always is, impeccable and attractive, observing me like a specimen on a lab table.

 

I don't want to talk to him anymore, so I turn to face the wall. I still can't find sleep, knowing he is just outside of my cell, but I have to try. I don't want to see his eyes on me anymore.

 

The line begins to blur.

 

His voice sounds so much closer now, “Will, do you miss me?” It sounds like he is perched on the edge of my bed, leaning close to whisper secrets in my ear. “Do you miss me kissing you, caressing you, holding you until you fall asleep?”

 

My throat feels as if pins are piercing straight through it. Tears begin to gather at the corner of my eyes, leaking down to dampen my flat useless pillow. I'm right where I belong for believing in this monster, for setting him as my anchor. Sobs are where the screams used to reside, held tight behind my teeth ready to escape. All the living and the dead are looking at me from the corners of the cell judging me for this transgression.

 

One sob escapes as I answer him, “I do.” My voice cracks brokenly between the syllables.  
  


“Oh my dear Will,” his voice is honeyed lies sliding down my spine, “It will be okay.” He sits there, but he doesn't reach to touch me, “Just let it go. You know as well as I do, people are worthless. They are wastes of breath, they are far worse than I could ever be.” The words run over me, his voice, his voice is still one of the most attractive features of him, that accent on his English, how thoughtful his every syllable sounds. “Just let it go. Break from the rules that society dictates. You will be happier, if you are free like me.”

 

“I can't.” The sobs aren't held back anymore. They are escaping one by one from an endless supply. “I can't. I love you, I love you so much.” There is snot running from my nose, making it impossible to breath, but I don't bother to wipe it away. “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you keep coming to my cell every single night.” I am undone, I am not pretty in my sorrow, I am a mess. “Hannibal,” his name on my lips is spoken softly, reverently like a prayer falling from the most devout of lips. “I love you, and you've made my worst nightmares come true.”

 

“I know.” He is still so calm. He is not bothered at all by what he's done to me. He is not affected by my breakdown. “I am only trying to give you a new perspective.” He is so sure of this madness. “I am only trying to show you the world.” He is so very sure of himself.

 

“I miss you so fucking much,” my breath hitches, “I can't do this. I cannot stand being stuck in this room, day in, day out.” He never reaches out to comfort me.

 

“I know you do.” He sighs, “I do miss you.”

 

My next words are so important. They matter, so I turn back around to face Hannibal, where he is perched on the end of my bed. “I used to know who I was, before you came along. I wasn't perfect, but I was surviving.” I wipe at the tears still streaming down my face. “I still don't think I would change us though, even after this.” I sound defeated, maybe I am defeated, maybe I'm just demented from being around all the other demented ones in this madhouse.

 

“I'm glad,” he smiles at me, “You are very special. I did not expect to ever meet someone that would understand me as you do.”

 

Those words give me pleasure, like I'm a dog, and I've just been called a good boy. I'm disgusting. I'm so disgusting because this monster complimenting me warms my cold aching bones and makes the tears slow.

 

“I miss you touching me the most.” It just slips out, ugly, but still true. Being trapped here doesn't make my reawakened drives any lesser. I had thought that I had killed all sexual desire in my body, but the traitorous thoughts are a constant companion here on my lonely nights when I can't sleep and all I can do is think. I remember the taste of his skin, salty with sweat, after a night of passionate lovemaking. I remember his hair falling down into his eyes as he snapped his hips to thrust deeper to hit that spot that made me see stars. It doesn't change anything, but I miss being held by him.

 

If anything, his smile turns to a satisfied smirk, “Will, why don't you,” his voice drops an octave turning dark and seductive, “show me?” He rakes his eyes down my body, and I feel arousal start to move sluggishly through my veins. Suddenly I feel hot in my garish orange jumpsuit, the fabric feeling scratchy against my increasingly sensitive skin.

 

Shyly I reach my hands to unfasten the jumpsuit, allowing my fingers to lightly graze my skin as I go down. Little shudders shoot through me, and my cock lays heavy against my stomach, before I pull it out into the cool air of the cell. The temperature is a balm against my fevered flesh.

 

I look up into Hannibal's eyes, letting the world fall out of focus, so that he is everything. So that he is my entire world. “Will, I want you to spit in your hand.” I can't so no to that request. Following his orders, I watch him, and wait for his next direction. He doesn't disappoint me, “Stroke your shaft.” I do so, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, because I feel like a teenager, I feel like one firm touch from his hand would be all that I would need to come right now.

 

It's been too long. Not my longest dry spell ever, but this one is made worse by knowing that I love him and he is so far away from me, mentally and physically.

 

Up and down, occasionally running my blunt nails along the length of my shaft. So good. I am lost, I am found while watching him command me to jerk myself off in my cage. Grunts and groans falling from my lips, and the slick slide of flesh against flesh are the only sounds in my cell. All I see is his eyes, he is all that's left of my world. He is everything.

 

“You're doing a very good job, Will.” He still doesn't close the distance and touch me. It doesn't matter, I shudder and twist, my eyes falling closed as I find myself coming at the sound of his voice.

 

When I open my eyes, he isn't sitting there anymore.

 

It's four am on a Tuesday, and I am locked in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

 

There is absolutely zero chance of him visiting me at this hour, on this day.

 

There is no way he was just in my cell.

 

The sticky residue of my release is drying on my stomach, and I am too tired to bother cleaning myself up. Instead I just curl up, letting the mess dry, and permit more tears to flow.

 

This time I'm silent in my misery.

 

I know no one is watching.

 

He has played his game, and doesn't care about me anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, liked this? Wanna be my friend? Find me on Tumblr! I'm PinkGlitteryGoth. I like making new friends, and asks make me giggle. <3


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